


The Dragon with Two Faces

by Dark00Verbatim



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Asexual Character, Blood and Gore, Brothers, Car Chases, Crimes & Criminals, Dragons, Eventual Romance, Fights, Gangs, Gay Male Character, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Japan, Japanese Character(s), Japanese Culture, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kabukicho, Katana, Knives, Love Triangles, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Organized Crime, Past Relationship(s), Protective Siblings, Samurai, Sibling conflict, Twins, Weapons, Yakuza, Yubitsume, crime syndicate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark00Verbatim/pseuds/Dark00Verbatim
Summary: Two brothers with the same face, but one lived in a world of shadow and blood and the other in light and oblivion. Dakota should have known it would be only a matter of time before Danieru would become intertwined in his world of gang banging syndicates and murder. Before he realizes how far down the the belly of the beast he had let them fallen, it’s too late to keep Danieru out of danger.A story of brotherhood and betrayal, love and hate.





	1. Chapter 1– Dakota-san

Shinjuku Kabukicho was a place lit up by infinite glittery neon lights and brightly strung lanterns, where nightlife was alive with bustling and hustling. Kanji characters were painted everywhere on advertising posters and signs that directed you in every which way toward adventure and alleyways shrouded in mystery. There were the highlighter-colored robot dinosaurs and the towering Gotzilla head that roared to life when you passed by Hotel Gracery. Electrical wires surged flashing blue, green, purple, pink, and blue translucent liquid over buildings, bars, restaurants, love hotels, pubs and parlors of the area, outlining them. Alcohol permeated through the air even a mile away from Lockup’s saké-filled beakers and floating eyeballs. To the tourists, this place was an entertainment district where people came to rid themselves of their responsibilities, to flee their needy wives, husbands, or children, to vacate away from work, and to possibly participate in the more dicey or provocative activities that adults engaged in. But that was only the shiny side of the coin; the other Kabukicho- the real one where I grew up, was more than just a nocturnal, red painted town. It was a place where you knew better than to mess with the men in the grey suits with the full body tattoos and stubbed pinkies. It wasn’t a place for a kid to grow up, especially without the protection of a father. And for most families, it wasn’t a big deal when the kumi-in came around to collect tax money for their oyabun. Then again, those families had fathers, and most of these fathers were members of the Yakuza-gumi.  
But with the death of my father, which mama still refused to talk about, it became a different story for my family. We were struggling to make ends meet even with mama’s long hours working at the hotel as what she referred to as a “hostess to the emotionally-deprived”. But I knew that was a cover up to hide the truth that she was selling her body to men in order to feed us. That thought sometimes crept into my mind while I was eating or falling asleep, making me feel nauseated to the point of vomiting. I knew if father had still been alive, he would have never let her fall into debt in the first place. He would have protected her and us from all the dangers lurking outside our apartment door. But now it was just mama, Danieru and I.  
Danieru was my twin brother who shared the same sharp, pale features as I did. He had the same mud brown almond-shaped eyes and lean build with strong sinewed joints. We were both six-foot-one and roughly 66kgs. Danieru was a bookworm, however, spending most of his time in some Rurouni Kenshin manga series or watching a Bruce Lee marathon. But, besides from reading and watching gory action, Danieru was a pacifist. He hated confrontations and could barely take an open-fisted jab to the stomach without making a face. When it came between the two of us, he was the one who always performed well in academics, earning him multiple awards in middle school. Well, that was before the bullying started to happen. He always relied on me to go after his tormentors, and I always did. I stood the only fighting chance among us anyways, and since then Danieru became someone who I swore to protect no matter what. It had become clear to me at the young age of ten that I was responsible for filling in for my late father; it was up to me to keep mama and Danieru safe at all costs including my life.  
As these years passed by without father, things began to get rough for me and trouble soon followed me around every corner I went. But, I made sure that I dealt with any problems on my own, not wanting to put any more stress on mama. I recall it started close to my last years attending Shinjuku highschool. Danieru and I had just turned fifteen which meant we were ready for upper school, but Danieru had decided that he was going to homeschool himself for the first time. That meant that I wasn’t going to have to worry about him getting into too much trouble outside of the house. And I will admit, knowing he was away gave me relief. Now I could focus on keeping a low profile and graduating, and then I wouldn’t have any more schooling to do as most of the families in Shinjuku were too poor or too unbothered to send their kids to college. After that, well, I hadn’t given it much thought.  
Freshman year went by fast; I performed the same monotonous activities everyday: walked to school past the dead maple trees, went up the graffitied stairs, pushed open the creaking sliding door of classroom 2-3, and pressed my head against the rough wooden desk that always smelled like pencil shavings and artificial fruit from the gum under it. And I would just close my eyes and sleep without interruptions from a single teacher. Before I realized, I was a senior. A senior who had already got into three fights, which I thought was rather good considering my fiery temper. Nonetheless, those bloody scuffles had put a target on my back. I was a pretty experienced fighter since I had defended Danieru in middle school, which prompted me to have to deal with some bully’s older brother once in a while. After school, I’d walk home around 6:30 pm and the sky would already be a darkened indigo with a couple silver dots. It was the same time the bars opened for night business and when everything inverted colors. The dull paint of egg-shelled walls flickered to life in the dark with neon green bulbs. Across the narrow street of the alley, lanterns awoke from their dark slumbers into radiating yellow hues. I loved the momentary warmth that pressed against the side of my face when I passed them before the brisk night swallowed me up again. This was my favorite time to be out exploring the other nightly world of Kabukicho, which I would later learn wasn't as pleasant as I had thought. Yet, I knew I had responsibilities to handle for mama and I alway returned home by 7pm.  
But this night I was late. It was 8:05 pm when I scraped my grey sneakers on the doormat in front of our apartment door, making it rustle gently. I first checked to see if the door was unlocked before getting my keys out. Danieru always forgot to lock the door no matter how many times I scolded him for it. Unlocked.  
My hand pressed against the flimsy door, creating space for the inside warmth to penetrate the crack and crash into the night air. I stepped inside and instantly turned the bronze key into the stubborn lock, shutting the night air out, and making sure I heard the click and buzz of metal before I let my exhale go.  
This particular night, the living room was empty but loud as the TV whizzed with flashes of news coverage. No one was watching it. I knew that Mama was working another late shift again, so that would explain why her pink coffee mug was on the glass table half full. I walked up to our dust beige sofa, picked up the black remote, and pressed off as the reporter’s words died on, “Another turf attack by the Kobe Yamag-”. It was completely silent now which wasn’t unusual as Danieru was a silent person. Yet, knowing this didn’t seem to ease my growing discomfort.  
“Danieru”, I called.  
No answer.  
I walked into the bedroom we shared. Textbooks were scattered all over Danieru’s desk, opened at random pages with highlighted texts. His laptop screen was still opened on a browser that read: last opened 15 minutes ago. It looked like he had just been here. I flung my dirty black backpack to the floor and climbed the latter up to his top bunk. It was a mess of sheets, nothing unusual there. I pulled them away. Empty.  
Then where the hell was he, I wondered nervously. “Was he in troub-”, I began. As if by cue, the front door slammed open. I heard light footsteps approach the living room, and the sound of plastic hitting glass as if a bag was just dropped onto it.  
“Dakota, it’s me”, my brother called as if sensing my presence, or the stench of my shoes. He always complained about that. I let out a long sigh, and mentally cursed myself for being so paranoid.  
“Lock the door will you, unless you’d prefer a mobster coming into our house and stealing our belongings”, I chided. When I heard the click and buzz of metal, I came out of the room to see him. He was wearing all black: ripped jeans, and a hoodie along with the black cap and mask I had made him swear to wear outside. We did have the same face afterall, and with all the enemies I had been making in the streets recently, the last thing I wanted was for Danieru to be mistaken for me.  
When he saw me he made one of his famous faces: slanted eyes and scrunched nose.  
“Why are you still in your school uniform? It’s almost nine”, he asked.  
I looked down to see my name tag that read: “赤い祖父ダコタ.”  
“Forget that, where were you? You know you're not allowed to go out of the house at night, especially alone”, I answered back.  
He rolled his eyes, “Relax, Mama asked me to grab a few things and you hadn’t arrived yet. There’s ramen in the bag for you if you want.” He pointed to the plastic bag on the table next to Mama’s dark roast. I went to pick up the old coffee, sniffing its chocolatey bitter aroma before throwing it out into the sink. I watched the brown liquid splash, swirl, and disappear into the drain. Danieru turned the TV back on to the same toneless voice as before. This time I caught a good glimpse of what was being shown. An old man’s face, maybe in his sixties, with a grey suit and sunglasses that covered a long, fleshy scar on his left cheek. He looked harmless on the TV screen, but I knew better than to judge by appearances.  
“Shinobu Tsukasa’s men were last seen approaching the gang offices of the Kobe Yamaguchi-gumi last Saturday, which may foreshadow another planned attack, this time near Hanamichi Street tonight. Police are scan-”, the words began to slosh together. My eyes went wide and my heart began to thump against my ribcage. I turned to Danieru and it was like looking into a mirror. He had the same exact stunned expression painted on his face. 

We lived on Hanamichi Street.


	2. Chapter 2– Danieru-san

The words that I had just heard kept reverberating in my ears over and over again, "another planned attack… Hanamichi street… attack… tonight.”  
My eyes shifted to Dakota who was staring at me bug-eyed. His lips pressed together in a nervous frown, but not in the way that you’d think he was scared. No, I knew better. He looked more like he was preparing to perform an impossible task; like his life depended on its success. There was something going on inside that head of his, and I could not fathom what it was. He didn’t even spare me a second to process what all this meant before he stormed into the room across from ours. I shadowed him.  
He was shuffling through the bottom drawer of Mama’s dresser. I scanned her room, looking at the pink embroidered sheets of her bed, almost expecting to see her frail form under the covers. Everything smelled just like her, incense and cigarettes. I stepped closer to Dakota, making the cypress floorboards groan with every shift of weight.  
“What are you doing Dakota? We shouldn’t be here. Moma deserves her privacy ”, I said in a hushed tone even though we were the only ones in the house.  
“Hey Danieru, why don’t you shut up and get my backpack from our room?”, Dakota snapped. I winced, and acquiesced his order returning to our room.  
I found his backpack by the bed, and slung it over my shoulder. Something sharp poked through the fabric and pricked my skin deep enough I cried out. I rubbed the area before zipping it open. A flash of silver metal caught in the lamplight. It was some kind of weapon I realized before Dakota appeared behind me and snatched it away with such force my heart hoisted into my mouth. A knife I decided. But why did he have a knife? Where did he even get it? Did he know how to use it? Strings of questions began whirling around in my mind. I glared at him, waiting for an explanation I knew wasn’t coming.  
Dakota met my gaze with an even more piercing look that made me suddenly feel like we were standing in a freezer. I looked down, breaking away from his cut glass expression. He had grabbed his dirty leather combat boots, the ones ripped from years of use. I watched as he changed into lead-colored cargo pants and a black long-sleeve shirt. As if to finish off the “I am going to kill you” look, he tugged on a black hat that fit snugly over his curly mange of hair. It casted a shadow over the top of his face, turning his expression to something inhumanely dark.  
“You look like a rogue assassin. I hope you realize the police will mistake you for a criminal if you go out like that”, I scoffed. And a part of me wondered if he was the criminal.  
My mind traveled back to that bone-chilling December day, the one where our ceiling was leaking rain water and I got a phone call from Aiko Joshi Gakuen Juvenile Detention Center all the way in Komae. I accepted the call from the operator and then Dakota, through clenched teeth and tight-syllables, explained how he had gotten into a fist fight with an officer because they had questioned his presence in a neighborhood he wasn’t from. How the “fucking (Deku) デク” had tased him, and I needed to come bail him out before Mama got home. She had found out anyway when they linked Dakota’s identity with our address. He ended up scrubbing the floor that night with blackening bruises on the side of his face from where mama’s belt thrashed his cheekbone.


End file.
